Driving the Crazies
by StatsGrandma57
Summary: Han and Leia are looking forward to a few days off, but it's cut short by a crisis on a planet in the Inner Rim. Chapter 6 finishes it off :)
1. Chapter 1

DRIVING THE CRAZY

(Han)

I'm off for a few days. Leia says she can get the time off as well, and I'm really looking forward to spending some serious time in bed with her. We might even get some sleep.

I'm especially looking forward to it because a month ago, Leia had her implant removed. She was told to wait one month before trying to conceive. And now that ship has blasted out. We're going to work on making a baby, and I can't tell you how excited this makes me. She was a little hesitant about having a family, based on her background, but she decided she wanted to be a mother. And when Leia makes up her mind about something, it's best to get out of the way or she will mow you down, hard.

I'm home first, so I decide to foodshop and make dinner. I'm thinking nerf steaks, nice and tender, some mashed tubers, lots of greens, some fresh bread. And something chocolate for dessert for my amazing wife. A woman like her deserves more than chocolate, but she'll enjoy it. I like making her happy. She's certainly brought joy into my life that I never deserved and probably never will.

Ten months of marriage to her, and I still have to remind myself I'm not dreaming this. My only complaint is that we're apart too much. Of course, my definition of being apart too much is being apart for more than a day.

I manage to get through the market without being hassled. For some reason, Leia and I have the attention of the holotabloids and thus, our privacy is shot to hells. I found a hat that covers my hair and causes enough shadow on my face that it's hard to see who I am. Okay, they've got the right of free speech, but I've punched out a couple of them and enjoyed it completely. And believe me, there will be NO holos of our baby. I know that violence isn't the only solution, but it's a very popular one. And don't tell me the holorazzi don't richly deserve it.

Fortunately, the streets are crowded at this time of the evening so I can blend in with the hundreds of my most intimate friends coming or going to work, foodshopping, dealing with kids, you name it. I always felt the same way about Mos Eisley. Every now and then I get homesick for the place, but then I remember that Jabba was going to feed me to the sarlaac and made a slave out of my Leia. But thanks to Luke and Leia, I escaped with my ass intact. While I was, shall we say, skeptical of my now brother in law's powers, he made me a believer. And Leia? She killed my greatest nemesis with nothing but her slave chain and her own two hands. How can you not love a woman like that?

By the time I arrive home, she's there, and I pick her up and spin her about as I kiss her a million times. My gods, it's lonely without her! We've each only been away for four days, but it seems like forever since we've been together.

"I can't tell you how happy I am to see you, Flyboy." She grins at me between kisses, her hands wrapped around the back of my neck. She's dressed in one of her work dresses, meaning that it's covering most of her. It makes her look very demure. But I know what's under that dress and there's nothing demure about it. I intend to get her out of it as soon as possible.

"I was going to make dinner, but we can always have dessert first," I tell her, being a complete lech about it. Can't help myself.

"Actually, I'm starved and I'm dying to get out of this dress."

"I'm dying for you to get out of it, too."

She looks at me with pure impishness. "I was going to put on something more comfortable."

"Such as?"

"My robe." For her birthday, I found her a shimmersilk robe in a deep purple. She looks unbelievably sexy in it. And, it will allow me to catch a preview while eating dinner. She turns to the food on the counter that I'm about to prepare. "Ooh, nerf steaks! And what's in the bakery box?"

"Chocolate lava cake."

She wraps herself around me again. "You know how I feel about chocolate lava cake."

"Oh, yes, I do."

"I wasn't kidding about being starved. Let's just say that some of our food was...alive." I'm with her. I can't stand anything that comes to the table not dead. I spent a lot of time at Jabba's palace and watching him gulp down nala tree frogs and other Hutt delicacies. It always turned my stomach.

"Well, allow me to prepare you a meal that's good and dead."

She wraps her arms around me again. If she keeps this up, there's no way I'm going to be able to get a meal on the table.

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It's a wonderful evening. We eat and complain about the sentients we do business with and laugh about it. She pops the dishes in the cleaner, and she walks over to me, a seductive expression on her face, a languid heat in her step.

"So, Hotshot," she says in her huskiest, throatiest voice which she know drives me wild. "I heard something about us making a little Solo. What do you know about that?"

"Hmm. I've never gotten you pregnant before. But I'd sure like to try."

I pick her up and carry her into our bedroom, both of us laughing out loud like a couple of kids. I drop her on the bed and I fall down after her, and we keep laughing and kissing and holding each other, her pulling at my clothes, me taking off her robe (it's easy - that's why I love it), until we're naked and wrapped tightly in each other's arms. I'm bursting with joy, and we're only getting started.

It's gonna be a fun night.

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(Leia)

I'm dreaming my comm is going off. This is hardly what I'd expect after a night like Han and I had; it was one of the happiest. And why won't it stop?

I'm jolted awake and sit up abruptly. Then I realize I'm not dreaming.

It's Mon Mothma and she's calling on the secure channel. Current time is 0351. Mon Mothma is a very demanding boss, but the only time she'd call at an hour such as this is if a major event occurred.

"Leia," I say, picking up.

"We've had an incident. The prime minister on Lorell has been assassinated. We need to move, and quickly. Is Captain Solo with you?"

I want to say, I hope so, seeing as he's my husband, but this is not the moment for being a smartass. (Han is not bound by any such inhibitions.) Lorell is an Inner Rim world, inhabited by humans and near humans, just outside of the Hapes Cluster. By transport it's a day long trip.

"He's here. Do we need him for transport?"

"If at all possible, yes."

"Wait a moment." I hate to wake Han up. He looks like an utterly content little boy in slumber.

"Han," I shake him awake. "Han. Wake up."

He mumbles and reaches for me.

"Han! Wake up NOW!"

That jolts him.

"Wha..."

"Han, we need to get to Lorell as quickly as possible. Is the _Falcon _good to go?"

"Uh, yeah, me and Chewie got her in order when we tied down." He blinks at me. "Why? Mon Mothma couldn't sleep?"

"The prime minister was assassinated on Lorell and to say the situation is volatile is putting it lightly."

"Okay, okay, lemme comm Chewie."

I return to Mon Mothma. "We're on the move. We'll meet you at the hangar in ninety minutes."

"Very well."

"How large of a delegation?"

"Only five, including you and me." She ends the call.

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(Han)

So much for having a few days alone with Leia. May I say I'm disappointed, irritated, and still horny as hell? Okay, I've said it.

Elections were only a month ago. So much for peace and democracy.


	2. Chapter 2

DRIVING THE CRAZIES

Chapter 2

(Han)

Chewie's barking at me as we prepare to take off.

"Do you think this was MY idea?" I snap at him.

{Sorry. I'm tired}.

"You and me both, pal."

{I hope they're not all gonna whine the whole way}.

"If they do, you have my permission to use your crossbow." I get a laugh out of the giant furball. I'm not capable of laughing yet. Hell, I'm barely conscious because I haven't had any kaf. Leia's putting the brew on.

Mon Mothma, Ackbar, Winter, and two envoys whose names I don't remember are all boarding.

"Captain Solo, it's good to see you." I'm happy to see Ackbar. He's the minister of defense for the provisional government and intends to retire soon. He's been involved with the Rebellion for decades now and I think he's had it all to hells.

"Likewise, Admiral," I say to him. "We should have kaf in a few minutes."

"Thank you for being available on short notice," Mon Mothma says to me. She's polite, but it's damn clear she'll never warm up to me. I don't care. She signs my chits for missions like this and that pretty well sums up our relationship, if you could call it that.

Winter's big problem is that she has perfect memory, and let's face it, we all have a lot of things we'd like to forget. She always looks sad and this doesn't surprise me. So in a way I feel really bad for her. She has to relive the horrors over and over and over. Intoxicants don't help her, and to me, that's the saddest part of it. She and Leia grew up together; Leia says they're not as close as they were when they were kids and I know they both wish that wasn't the case. War does things to people. It did me, but unlike many, I'm grateful for some of them. One of them's coming up to the cabin with two steaming mugs.

"Thanks, sweetheart. Time to get everyone settled."

"Will do." She leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for doing this." I remember the first time she kissed me like this. She said that I had my moments. Not many of them, but I did have them. I'm sure this has not changed.

{I can't remember the names of the two envoys}, Chewie says to me.

"Don't you remember when we had to stamp out a fire in the Hapes cluster? We called them Thing One and Thing Two." I really do have some more choice names for them, but we'll keep it civil for now. Let's just say that they never grew out of being whiners and based on their ages, I'm not optimistic. Chewie and I are done with the precheck and raring to go.

"Okay, we're taking off!" I shout to everyone. They're already talking politics, which, no disrespect to my wife, I tend to find boring. Granted, they have a critical situation they need to work on. This means that they'll be oh so civilized for about 45 minutes, and then they'll all get frustrated and start on the digs. After that, there should be the occasional shouting, and if we're lucky, someone's gonna want to take out somebody in the docking bay.

We escape Coruscant's atmosphere and prepare to jump to light speed. The delegation is in the lounge and we don't hear any shouting. Yet. I'm hoping it stays that way. I'm not in the mood for anything else.

I page the lounge. "Going to light speed."

"Got it, thanks," Leia responds.

Fortunately, my baby hits light speed smooth as shimmersilk. "That's my girl," I say, trying to encourage her to continue to behave herself. Despite my misgivings about transporting the delegation, I do see the urgency of the situation. It's only been a month since the first elections have been held, and having a prime minister assassinated at this point isn't a good sign.

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(Leia)

"We have to see if the vote was rigged," I say to the others.

"Why would they do that? Reg Nolo was a very popular senator before the Imperial Senate was dissolved, and retained that popularity," Mon Mothma explains. "I don't think this is the problem."

"It still needs exploration." Temaso Grundeen is a one of the envoys. He's knowledgeable - and a royal pain in the ass. His whiny voice works my last nerve, and he's not even really gotten started. However, he does agree that this is an avenue we must pursue.

"There were many Imperial sympathizers on Lorell." That's from Pharell Moix, who grew up on Lorell. While it's difficult to believe, Pharell is even more annoying than Temaso. He's a Lorellian near human, and there was a great deal of prejudice against near humans during the reign of the Emperor. He is constantly becoming angry. I'm willing to cut him slack because it had to have been difficult growing up in such an atmosphere, but his temper flares frequently, and usually at the worst possible moments. But he's got the knowledge and familiarity and is thus an intrinsic part of our group. This is assuming that neither Han nor I strangle him.

Han calls them Thing 1 and Thing 2. I felt that was very diplomatic on my husband's part. I've come up with other names for them and I'm not going to repeat them in polite company.

"Reg Nolo might be popular but he's got a lot of enemies, too," Pharell points out. "He won by a really slim margin."

"Lorell doesn't have automatic runoff voting, do they?" Mon Mothma asks Pharell.

"No, never have had." Pharell answers Mon Mothma in what can only gently be described as a condescending tone. Coruscant has automatic runoff elections, but they're not popular in some places. Right now, we have to function with the laws of each planet and even more local regulations in some cases. Attorneys from each planet will have to devise these and codify them. Most of Imperial law is still applying, although emergency powers have been stripped from them. Going to war is one thing; building new governments and putting in new leadership is a very different animal. Reg Nolo is a human amidst a mix of humans and near humans. He never believed that near humans deserved fewer rights, and he has a lot of detractors in that regard. Changing laws is a lot easier than changing attitudes. It's been said that you can't legislate attitudes, but you can move the legal system in a certain direction.

"We agreed that only two individuals on each world would have one half of the code," Mon Mothma pointed out. "It's buried in multiple layers of encryption, and it would be impossible to break it."

I don't share her faith in technology. The developers may well be geniuses and have great designs. I'm grateful for many things technology does for us. But it's only as good as those that design it. And as Han has pointed out to me, some of it based on actual experience, any technology could be tampered with.

"If it can be built, it can be broken," I remind her.

"Leia, I was on the committee," Mon Mothma says to me, much like a parent would speak to an errant child. "Nothing like this can occur."

Have I mentioned that Mon Mothma gets defensive a great deal?

Winter's said nothing so far. She's probably just taking everything in as she's always done.

I didn't think of it as creepy when I was young, but now I wonder. She and I have disagreed a lot in recent history. It saddens me to be drifting away from my childhood friend but destiny doesn't always drive us to where we want to be. I feel as if my only ally in this is Admiral Ackbar. He's not only a brilliant military tactician and strategist but a kind, warm hearted sentient. He's told far too many families that one of their loved ones has died, and no one could be more gentle and empathetic. Calamarians naturally have sad eyes. His have seen more sadness than many species will in a thousand years. It hasn't hardened him, though. He seems to have been born kind.

Mon Mothma turns to him. "Admiral, what sort of military action should be taken?"

"At this time, none. We do not have enough data at this point, and military action might well be counterproductive."

"The military doesn't plan to find the assailant?" Mon Mothma asks him sharply.

"That is the responsibility of planetary security at this point in time. We will, of course, be reassessing constantly."

"And you trust security to control this?" Pharell snaps at Ackbar. "You have no idea what you're getting into!"

Mon Mothma raises her hand and gently lowers it. "Pharell, I need for you to calm down."

"Everyone will blame it on the almosts!" Pharell roars at this.

The lounge comm crackles to life. "If you guys don't mind, I'm trying to drive here, and I don't appreciate you kids carrying on in the back seat!"

Temaso becomes irritated. "You husband's got a major attitude problem!" he snarls at me.

Not half the one you have, I think, but don't say it.

If we survive this trip without Han murdering at least one of us, it'll be a miracle.

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	3. Chapter 3

DRIVING THE CRAZIES

Chapter 3

(Han)

Thank gods this wasn't a trip to the outer rim. I'd have killed everyone on board save for Chewie and my wife. Leia would have killed me had I decided that this was the right time for a proper fistfight - or not. She was as aggravated as I was by the end of the flight.

Leia stays at the consular houses on many of her trips but this time, we're all at a fine hotel, the ones I've gotten used to. I've slept in some of the rankest flophouses in the galaxy, so I appreciate the luxuries that the best hotels offer and while Leia goes and suffers through negotiations and planning and trying to resolve the assassination of the prime minister, I'm enjoying 5000 holochannels, an incredibly comfortable bed, a shower that has plenty of room for Leia and me, and a spa tub with jets. Not to mention room service. I really like room service, and I call down for two Alderaanian ales and some assorted snacks. I don't care that it's only 1000. Where I'm from, that's beer o'clock.

It's great to have twenty channels of smashball. I can watch any game I want, but I do have a soft spot for my horrible Drednoughts. They play later in the day. Tatooine Glop Monsters are playing right now. Luke's team isn't much better than mine, but when they play the Corellian Drednoughts, they usually win. This causes him to gloat. Luke was a bit intense when he was a new Jedi, but time and sex have humanized him. And he whines a lot less. Thank you, Mara Jade.

My breakfast has been delivered. The atmosphere in Lorell's capital city is what you'd expect from a city in lockdown: simmering terror threatening to explode into something featuring deadly weapons and blood. I think I've had my fill of both. I hope Leia can work her magic on this one before it gets any uglier.

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(Leia)

We're meeting with the high council. So far, there's been a lot of shouting and not much in the way of negotiations. For the last few minutes I consider Han's main method of negotiating: shoot first. It would at least be quieter.

Finally, tempers take a break or maybe everyone's just tired of shouting.

"Nolo was going to make the utilities all owned by the planetary government," the Lorellian Minister of State says. Sadly, the near human is my opposite number and his attitude is even worse than mine. "We believe private industry can do it better."

"The Galactic High Council allows that to be governed by each planet so long as they comply with the law as written for the galaxy." We have provisions to prevent price gouging, which was commonplace during the Imperial reign. There are also authorizations for assistance for the elderly or disabled if they are below the poverty line for that particular planet.

Economic growth is going to be a major factor. The Empire kept the entire war machine going at full throttle, and now we have about half the galaxy experiencing unemployment levels that could threaten the existence of the GFFA. The tax base is nonexistent in many worlds. And exacerbating that is the fact that the treasury was burned into the ground during the war.

Han's solution is another week long drunk for the entire galaxy. I'm starting to wonder if he's got something there.

"Reg Nolo was completely corrupt!" one of the council members declares.

"He was not!" screams another one who belonged to the same political party as Nolo.

"He steals from the rich!" Dom Colvanino declares loudly. Dom is a millionaire a hundred times over.

"Why? Because he was going to raise taxes seven percent on those worth over five million per year?" I shoot back at him. The extremely wealthy don't pay their fair share on Lorell. They did before the Empire, but that's been a while. They have a burgeoning under class and a small but blindingly wealthy upper class. The small portion of the population that is wealthy owns sixty percent of the planet's wealth. I consider this a problem.

"You grew up rich," Dom retorts back to me.

"And Alderaan had a completely progressive system of taxation." If you had more on Alderaan, you paid more. "Everyone benefited. We had almost no poverty and nearly full employment."

"So you take from those who earned it?" Dom shoots back.

"Dom, I know that you live on your family's credits and that all of your business ventures have failed. Now let's get real!" I give him my 'I've had enough of you bastards' look.

Amazingly, he shuts up, although he lacks the ability to be shamed.

We spend six hours in much the same way - shouting, disagreeing, and making little progress. I feel a major throbbing in my temples. We decide we'll break for two hours. About the only thing we've accomplished is that for now, we'll consider the assassination of Nolo to be a police matter, not a military one, and that planetary security has, for now, complete jurisdiction. Some of the council members and the delegation disagree, but Mon Mothma managed to convince them that this way made more sense. Mon and I do actually agree on many things. And I learned the withering stare from her.

I head back to the room Han and I are staying in. I walk in and he's sound asleep, the holovision still on to one of the smashball channels, and two empty ale bottles. I lie down as quietly as possible so to not disturb him, but he senses I'm there, anyway.

"How's it going, sweetheart?" he asks me in a groggy manner.

"It could be worse. It could also be a lot better."

He lazily drapes an arm across me, a gesture that feels so incredibly natural to me. Since the first night we slept together, this is his normal position.

"Did we pack any Zopran?" I ask him.

"I didn't."

"Then we didn't."

"We have some on the _Falcon."_

"No, it'll be fine. I just need to close my eyes and relax for a few."

Han sits up in bed. "Maybe I can help." He places his hands on my shoulders and begins massaging them. "That working for you?"

I feel myself melting. "Why do you think I stay with you?" I tease him.

"And here I thought it was my warmth, charm and personality."

"Let's not get carried away now, shall we? But you do give good massage. But you need to do me a favor."

"Which is?"

"If I come back here and demand that you shoot everyone, talk me down."

"How about I shoot 'em?"

"That could work, too."


	4. Chapter 4

DRIVING THE CRAZIES

Chapter 4

(Leia)

I ask Han if he'd join us for dinner. I know how he hates these events, but he has a type of credibility I never will have.

"Only if I can bring my blaster," Han said.

"On the condition that you don't shoot unless someone else aims at you," I tell him.

"Honey, you know I shoot first."

I groan. "They know that. The blaster is just a gentle reminder of them not to step out of line."

"Can I get drunk?" he asks me.

"I'd prefer you didn't, but if you must, try not to be messy about it."

He raises his eyebrows and glares at me as if he's been affronted. "Who's messy?"

"I need a shower, Flyboy. You coming?"

"Is that what you meant by messy?"

I have to laugh. "C'mon, hotshot. Let's see how messy getting cleaned up can be."

"Well, if you put it like that..."

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(Han)

I really hate these types of dinners. Fortunately, I retired my military commission shortly after we were married, so I don't have to go in uniform. I do put on a clean shirt. That's my contribution to planetary politics tonight.

And, Leia doesn't ask me very often to do this. She knows I'm impatient with the process and the sentients. I just hope there's plenty of ale, and that it's not the rotgut that'll rip out the lining of my stomach. I've had several hangovers in the name of galactic peace. We all make sacrifices, but I think sacrificing my liver is asking a lot. If I'm going to do that, I'm going to make sure I'm enjoying myself.

I may be giving the impression that I find all diplomats other than my wife to be major bastards. This isn't true. I have a few friends among them. At state functions, there are a number of us who go outside and drink too much whenever possible. Even bureaucrats can't stand other bureaucrats.

We sit down with everyone. They've all just arrived, so the intoxicants haven't started flowing. Speaking for myself, I intend to remedy that as quickly as possible.

I'm hoping that intoxicants break the tension at the table. If it doesn't, I'm going to have to bring out my supply of tasteless jokes. Tasteless jokes, in my case, is redundant; I don't know any other kind. You spend a major part of your adult life with smugglers, and your manners and humor suffer.

I listen, not offering anything, and then it hits me.

Ryll and ryll kor, which are among the few cash crops Lorell has, were substances that Nolo was going to regulate. The very wealthy were in essence controlling the black market. They've got a vested interest in keeping it that way. Nolo wanted to spread the wealth a bit, collect taxes on it, put it into something that they could legitimately trade. I know what that stuff fetches on the black market; hells, I used to smuggle it.

I ask Leia to step away from the table for a few minutes with me so we can talk. She isn't happy about it, but she's not happy about being at the table, either, so we step out of the dining room.

"This is about ryll," I point out to her.

She looks at me skeptically. "We haven't even discussed ryll."

"Bring it up. You know that Nolo was going to regulate it, thus destroying the wealth of the titans."

"It's just one substance."

"And it's all they've got. Unless things have changed dramatically in the last five years, they rely on it."

"It's true that they don't have agriculture."

"And no industry beyond paying scut wages to process the stuff. I think that's what's behind this."

"There was also anger at regulations pertaining to fuel and utilities."

"I'm telling you, it all comes back to this. They do produce some chuba fungus and mix it with the ryll, but it's the ryll that's the money shot."

She studies me. "You know, for a half witted, scruffy looking nerf herder, you're pretty smart once in a while."

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	5. Chapter 5

DRIVING THE CRAZIES

Chapter 5

(Leia)

My head is starting to spin. Now there are arguments about wanting to be independent of the GFFA among their envoys. They do have the option. We don't force worlds to join. But we make it clear that we also cannot provide services, join in trade agreements that are equitable, or give any financial support.

This has to be one of the worst dinners I've been to in my life, and starting as a toddler, I've been to a lot. There's been endless bickering and not a lot getting done.

Finally, I mention ryll and ryll kor.

I never heard a table go so quiet so fast.

"That's really what this is about," I snap at them, my temper becoming frayed. "You don't want the substance regulated because then you couldn't make huge credits possible by trading it on the black market. It's not as if you wouldn't still make money."

"We don't even want to be part of the GFFA," the Minister of State says sharply. "You are only interested in us because you want to take our ryll."

"That is not the case. We are looking to offer security and financial support - "

"And why should I believe you?" he shouts at me. By now, he is very drunk.

"Because the lady knows from where she speaks," Han says, sharply to him. I don't know if the Minister of State can see, but Han is lovingly stroking his blaster. I want to laugh so badly, based on the motions he's using.

The Minister of State is silenced.

"I know what ryll is, what it costs, what has to be paid to the 'protection' rackets, and how much your very wealthy make off it," Han went on.

"And how do you know all this?" the Minister retorts.

Han gives his biggest evil grin. "Because I smuggled it for over a decade."

I'm not sure that's the answer I would have given, but it seems to get everyone's attention.

One of the undersecretaries from Lorell speaks up. "So you're the famous Han Solo."

"The one and only," Han says, not allowing any false modesty to get in his way. Maybe inviting him to dinner wasn't my best idea.

"But what does this have to do with ryll? It's our only export of value," the Lorellian finance minister says.

"You should consider a trade agreement," Han said. "And arrest the bastards who shot Nolo while you're at it."

"I still say there should be military involvement," Thing Two insists. Thing Two is completely clueless; give him a problem, he wants a military solution. He can't think of any other ways.

The table breaks out in shouting again. Finally, Mon Mothma stands up and gives everyone a stare that could freeze fire.

"We agreed that the assassination would be treated as a criminal case for now," she points out. "And you all agreed to it." The evil eye moves about the table. It's a good thing that this is in the dining room of a palace, not a restaurant, because we would have scared everyone off by now.

Not that I would have minded, of course.

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(Leia)

By 2330, we are getting nowhere, and we break. I desperately need sleep. I think if Han hadn't been there I'd have gone completely insane. Okay, I smiled at a couple of wrong moments when I found Han stroking his blaster like he does...never mind. I did get Mon Mothma's Stare of Death, but she's the least of my worries right now.

I sit on the edge of the bed, kicking my shoes off. I wonder if I'm really cut out for this. I wonder if Mon Mothma knows how unprepared I feel for it. I've benefited from a good education and growing up in a governing household, but this sometimes feels way above my pay grade.

They need to hold elections again, but this time, we need to have watchers in place. I'm not convinced that Reg Nolo bought votes - overall, he was a pretty decent guy and really wanted the best for the planet - but I think there are going to be problems with the next one, worse than for the one that happened last month. Their minister of state and interim prime minister don't want the elections and they certainly don't want sentinels. Legally, we cannot force them to hold them.

This shouldn't surprise me. Lorell backed the Empire heavily during the war and clamped down heavily on the Rebels till the end of the war.

"You okay?" Han asks me as he kicks off his boots.

I look up at him and I know my expression is one of pure misery. "I'd much rather be at home and trying to make a baby about now."

Han gathers me in his arms. No matter what the situation, his touch always makes me feel safer, more secure, and more at ease with myself.

"There're no laws saying we can't make a baby when we're not at home," he whispers to me oh so low and sexy. I shiver a little and I'm not cold, trust me.

He has a point. I hadn't even thought about sex for most of the last day. But now his face is close to mine and we kiss, very gently at first, but our kisses deepen and intensify. I breathe in his scent, that luscious mix of male pheromones that never fails to arouse me.

And arouse me it does. We're attacking each other's clothing, basking in the appearance of more skin with each item shed. Han pulls me down on top of him, wrapping me in his strong arms and his hands traveling down my body.

"I think this baby making business could be a lot of fun," Han whispers to me seductively.

Who says a bad trip can't have its great moments?


	6. Chapter 6

DRIVING THE CRAZIES

Chapter 6

(Leia)

Five more days of negotiations pass. Han has work commitments, and we really haven't gotten far. We have worked out a bit of agreement in some aspects of the ryll trade and an agreement to hold elections in three months, but it's Mon Mothma's (and my) opinion that we will get no further at this point. Diplomacy is slow work. We'll be back. But I'm glad to leave. If things get ugly, we'll have to send a garrison, but I'm hoping it won't come to that.

We get on the _Falcon, _strapping in for the ride home. Han warns that we'll likely not be able to escape some weather, meaning, get the barf containers out. I'm mostly used to it, having flown through far worse with Han. Any flight where we're not being shot at is, to my mind, a good flight.

It's a pretty quiet ride back. We discuss some things, but it's been a nervewracking five days and there's a lot I'd just as soon forget. I think the entire delegation is fed up. Thing One and Thing Two actually fall asleep. Thing Two went out and got drunk with some fellow Lorellians the other night, and while he had a ripping bad hangover, he was actually able to move us a bit forward. The sacrifices we make for peace and democracy.

Despite the misery of dealing with the Lorellians, there were some bright spots that were in the form of making love with my husband. And not just making love, but making a baby. I'm not sure if it took on this trip, but I really don't think it'll be long before Han and will learn that we're going to be parents. I denied for a long time about wanting children, but now, I can't wait for it to happen.

I close my eyes as the _Falcon's _ion engines hum to life and imagine myself as a mother. I wonder how large my stomach will get, and what it will feel like to be carrying life itself inside of me. What will it be like to give birth to this infant? How will I feel as I hold our child for the first time, nurse him or her, how soft his or her skin and hair will be?

It dawns on me why peace and democracy are so important to me.

It's because future generations depend on it. And Han and I are actively involved in creating those who will live there.

It matters.


End file.
